


an apple a day keeps the Abomination away

by ang3lba3



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Cultural Differences, Fenris POV, Fenris tries to be funny, Jealous Fenris, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 04:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5033188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/pseuds/ang3lba3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which cultural differences lead to misunderstandings, a crying Hawke, and a love confession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	an apple a day keeps the Abomination away

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this tumblr post](http://ang3lba3.tumblr.com/post/131401352901/stormdragon-lamentaslair-miss-ingno)

Fenris first thought of it at the Hanged Man, while Hawke was talking about being naked and soapy. It was a time when many of his best ideas had come to him, mostly because he thought very loudly over anything Hawke was saying so as to not kiss the infuriating man right there.

(He’d burned that bridge. There was no use trying to jump a chasm - it would only end in broken bones and punctured organs.)

“And one of my moles is growing into a pear shape and turning black,” Hawke complained, tugging up his shirt to reveal the hard lines of his abdomen, and a suspicious looking mole. Fenris just barely kept himself from drooling, ripped his eyes away to stare fiercely at the table instead.

“You should see Anders about that, it could be cancerous.” Isabela paused, looked significantly at the platter of meats, cheeses and fruit in the center of the table. The fruit lay untouched. “And maybe eat more fruit.”

“I don’t see at all how the two are related,” Hawke said.

“People who eat fruit never get weird moles. And they’re more likely to find silver in the street.”

“That cannot possibly be correct,” Fenris rumbled. “Although she does have a point. After all, an apple a day-”

Hawke cut him off with a loud, “My favorite doctor! I’ve got something for you to look at.”

Fenris fumed slightly at being interrupted for his eyes to greet the  _Abomination,_ of all things. Without thinking too much about it, he picked up an apple and threw it at Anders’ head.

 _Keeps the doctor away,_ he thought with satisfaction as it bounced off Anders’ temple and onto the floor. He picked it up, shined it off with his shirt, and offered it (more politely this time) to Anders.

“My aim was off,” he said as gravely as he could manage. If he let on it was on purpose, he’d get another lecture about ‘being polite’ and ‘juvenile behavior’.

(As if Hawke and Isabela were ones to talk.)

Anders stared down at the apple with an uncalled for amount of horror.

“If you don’t want it just say so,” Fenris snapped. What, did he think it was _poisoned?_

“I’m, um,” Anders said, voice subdued. “I’m sorry but… no.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Fenris said, taking a bite out of the apple himself to prove that it wasn’t poisonous and that Anders was once again misjudging him. He realized too late that he hated apples, face souring as soon as it touched his tongue.

Giving up now would be admitting defeat, however, so he bravely took another bite.

“Oh, Fenris,” Isabela said sympathetically, and he turned to look at her. Yes, he hated apples, but there was no need to look as if he was facing death.

“I’m quite alright,” Fenris said. It came out a bit grumpier than he’d meant it. He glared at the apple.

Disgusting.

Hawke abruptly rose from the table, a forced looking grin on his face. “Well, I’m off. Snuggles could use a bath after that last trip up to Sundermount.”  
  


“You still haven’t cleaned him?” Fenris asked, admiring Hawke’s attempt at bravery in the face of true terror. Washing Snuggles was very akin to - well, he couldn’t think of a comparison, mostly because it was its own brand of horrible. Snuggles was able to be an immovable mountain of strength, fortitude, and pity inducing sad howls with great big weeping eyes all at once.

“I’ll help!” Anders said quickly, and Fenris all but snarled in his direction. The man could bend over the table and present himself right here and it would still be less desperate than he normally was around Hawke. Today there was a certain special fervor in his eyes that Fenris had never seen, and he could only imagine what Anders was planning to do.

He couldn’t decide whether it would be worse to go and watch, or to stay behind and imagine what was happening. Before he’d made a decision, they were out the door. Oh well. At least he wouldn’t have to help wash that hell beast of a dog. And he trusted Hawke to make the right decision concerning Anders - he’d never shown interest in the man before, after all.

Hawke seeing someone else was - it was fine, truly. Fenris had been the one to end it, if you could call something so short as their night together something to end. That someone else being Anders, however…

“Oh, Fenris,” Isabela said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.

“What?” he said, deeply suspicious and slightly concerned. He stood, rankling at the pity in her eyes. She knew something. “What?”

“Sit back down, let’s talk about this-” Isabela said soothingly, and her placating tone was all the proof he needed that Anders was going to try something. He must not have been as careful hiding his reactions as he had thought.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Fenris growled, turning and heading for the door.

“Fenris!” Isabela called after him, but she didn’t pursue him when he left, and that was a good enough sign as any.

He would allow Hawke to live his life unburdened by his feelings, Fenris had decided shortly after he realized what a huge mistake leaving had been. Hawke had acted as if that night had never happened, had never mentioned it again, treated him exactly the same. It had meant nothing to him and Fenris would be the last to put his selfish desires in the way of Hawke’s happiness.

But not if it meant that Anders got to touch him. The man was a powder keg, waiting to go off at the slightest spark. The thought of Hawke lying next to such a creature, defenseless in the arms of sleep or in the throws of passion - it was unbearable. He would not allow it, he  _could_ not allow it.  

The walk to Hightown passed even quicker than usual when he ran, and by the time he reached Hawke’s mansion he couldn’t decide between waiting to catch his breath and pretending that he hadn’t sprinted to Hawke’s side or banging open the gate and catching Anders before he tried whatever unholy trick he had up his sleeve.

Fenris decided on the latter at the eerie lack of Snuggles’ sad whines. He threw the gate open and rushed in, trying his best not to panic at the sight of an empty courtyard. Slipping through the front door with a little bit more tact, he made his way upstairs and towards the pitch of distressed voices.

(Orana didn’t attempt to stop him, though her hands fluttered nervously and she made an aborted motion towards him. Bodhan was occupied with keeping Sandal from using the matches he had obtained from Maker knew where.)

Some instinct kept him from charging into Hawke’s bedroom, an instinct that had been suppressed by panic thus far. Assessing the Abomination’s intentions at this moment was key if he wanted to be able to successfully thwart them. A delicate hand was necessary, as much as he hated to think of any length of time Hawke spent undefended with Anders. Fenris reached the door to the study and pressed his ear against it.

“It’s going to be alright, you know,” Anders voice said, awkward and fumbling.

“Yes, of course it is. It’s always alright, that doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Hawke’s voice was brittle.

Fenris frowned. This was… not what he had been expecting. There was no reason for Hawke to be upset.

“There… there,” Anders said, and his voice was uncomfortable, charged with all the words he wasn’t saying.  _Oh Hawke,_ Fenris thought in a high pitched mimicking tone, _you’re almost as wonderful as allowing mages to run unchecked through the streets would be! Why don’t we marry and have a thousand cats with increasingly ridiculous names that demean their intelligence even farther than previously thought possible!_

“He’s not worth it,” Anders said.

“No, but you don’t  _understand_ Anders. You _can’t_  understand.” Hawke sighed.

“You’re right,” Anders exclaimed. “I don’t understand! He’s a narrow minded fool who allows one bad experience to color his entire view of life.”

Hawke laughed incredulously.  _“One_  bad experience? Maker’s balls Anders, he was a slave! For all the oppression that the mages in Kirkwall suffer, it does not compare to what he went through.”

“I can’t talk to you about this,” Anders hissed, and Fenris heard him stomping towards the door. He quickly ducked around the corner, mind running a mile an hour.

They were obviously talking about him, but he couldn’t even begin to understand what the words were supposed to mean, as incomprehensible as those squiggles on pieces of paper.

Anders slammed his way through the door, pausing to take a deep breath. “Maker, it even smells like him here,” he mumbled before calling over his shoulder, “He doesn’t deserve you, Hawke.”

He tromped down the stairs, and Fenris squinted in confusion at the dark wood of the wall across from him. He didn’t _deserve_ Hawke? Hawke’s what, friendship? While true, that cleared up nothing.

“I think you’ll find that’s one thing you two agree on,” Hawke said dryly, mostly to himself.  

Fenris rubbed his temples. Short of asking Hawke or Anders to clarify, he didn’t see how he could understand what he’d heard. He should go home, have a drink, try to work out this tangle in his head that felt suspiciously like ‘feelings’.

“You’ll be the death of me, Hawke,” Fenris murmured, heading towards the stairs himself.

-

An hour and a bottle of fine wine later, Merrill appeared on his doorstep. He all but slammed the decaying door in her face - he could tolerate her for Hawke’s sake, but on his own time she nauseated him. No matter how sweet and innocent she appeared - which was very - he knew that the power would corrupt her eventually. It was always the same with blood mages, he’d seen it more times than he could count, morals withering in the face of possibility and prestige.

“What?” he snarled.

“I know you don’t like me very much,” Merrill started, and he nodded his agreement. “But I wanted you to know that I’m sorry about what happened with Anders and I’m here for you, if you need someone to talk to.”

Fenris squinted. “Why would I need someone to talk to?”

“You don’t have to pretend you’re not hurt,” Merrill said gently. “I know how it feels, being rejected.”

 _“Rejected?_  What is this nonsense you’re spewing?” Fenris said.

“Oh, don’t play dumb. You threw an apple at him!”

“Yes, and hopefully it hurt, but I don’t see what that has to do with rejection. Or - do you think I’m so fragile as to be wounded he didn’t want to eat a piece of fruit I stole from Isabela?”

“What?” Merrill said, blinking in confusion. “Don’t you know?”

“Know what?”

“That in Ferelden that’s a proposal!” Merrill said, waving her arms a bit for emphasis.

“That’s - I -” Fenris couldn’t speak. There were no words. He’d just wanted to hit the man, not hit _on_  him.

“Oh dear. This is quite the mess,” Merrill said.

“I agree,” Fenris growled.

It was all starting to make sense - Anders’ confused, disgusted, and impressively polite refusal of the apple, Isabela’s pity, Hawke’s distress-

Wait.

Hawke’s distress?

“I need to see Hawke,” Fenris said, face set in determined lines. He pushed past Merrill, shutting the door behind him.

There wasn’t really much space between their houses, but he ran the short distance anyways, Merrill shouting something behind him he wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to.

He thundered his way into the mansion for the second time that day, beelining up the stairs and to Hawke’s bedroom. He managed to stop himself to give a courtesy knock in an incredible show of restraint.

“I don’t want soup, Orana, but thank you!” Hawke called. Even through the door, his voice sounded rough from crying.

Maker, he’d made him cry.

“It’s not Orana.” Fenris opened the door a crack, waiting for Hawke to tell him to stay out. When he didn’t, Fenris let himself in.

“I’m afraid I’ve caught a cold,” Hawke said, sounding and looking miserable, tear rimmed red eyes and a snotty nose. “And something rather large has gotten into um, both of my eyes.”

“There’s a saying, in Tevinter,” Fenris started, stalking forward. “An apple a day keeps the doctor away. I threw the apple at Anders’ head because I thought I was being clever, not because I wanted to marry him.”

Hawke wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. He looked immeasurably relieved, and immediately tried to hide that. “Well, it is rather clever when you put it that way.” he paused, thought. “Also rather rude.”

Fenris ignored this. He could get a lesson on his manners towards the Abomination any day. “What I’m trying to say is that there’s only one person in that building that I would want to marry.”

Hawke’s eyebrows shot up. “I knew that you and Isabela were getting along, but-”

He couldn’t help himself, he laughed. He felt free, for the first time he could remember. Free to say these things he’d chained to himself, to move without them hobbling his actions. Reaching out a hand to cradle Hawke’s face, he allowed himself a smile. (As if he could stop it.)

“You, Hawke. I’ve regretted leaving for too long and, if you’ll still have me, I’d like to stay.” Fenris leaned closer, waited for a rejection. It would be his second this day if it came, but this one would actually mean something to him.

Hawke started crying again, and Fenris began to pull back in alarm before Hawke caught the back of his head and pressed him into a kiss that tasted like tears. It seemed fitting that they would start again like this, after the years of broken hearts it took to get there. The kiss was filled with hope despite the edge of grief to it, with relief, with release of things that had gone far too long unsaid.

“Of course I’ll have you, you bastard,” Hawke said when they finally broke apart. He pressed their foreheads together. “Maker damn you, I’ll have you any way I can.”

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr at [this gorgeous blog ;)](ang3lba3.tumblr.com)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Odd Customs of the Slaves of Tevinter, or, Interesting Ways to Woo an Elf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050477) by [shinyhill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinyhill/pseuds/shinyhill)




End file.
